Poster for the movie shot in and around San Antonio then in California because we went on strike. I think we hurt their feelings.
In 2007, we got a call from our friend Chris Champlain letting us know of a job on a low budget movie set for a set dresser. The movie was "From Mexico with Love", that's a cross between "Rocky" and "Escape from New York"...sort of ...I think. Pam and I have both had some experience in props and sets from our theatre and circus work so Pammy thought one of us should apply for the job. It was a good chance to make union scale wages but working on a set means 12 to 15 plus hours a day, seven days a week. Since our children were rather young it was decided I would be the one to apply.
I have to confess that I had no desire to take the job because I felt I didn't have the necessary experience. Pammy finally convinced me to go for it. I called and the next day I found myself out in the country on a dusty, rocky ranch near a town called Mico, where they were filming a border crossing scene. After asking a couple of production assistants, I was directed to the prop master who told me the man I needed to talk to would be around later. He wasn't too chatty as he was preoccupied with some task at hand. He did mention that this particular "shoot" was the worst he'd ever worked. I should have taken that as cue to exit stage left but we needed the money.
I waited around watching the crew set up a shot in a dry creek bed that represented the "border" and rehearse the scene with the actors and extras. The extras were playing illegal immigrants and would be climbing out of a van by the creek bed. The prop master was busy checking the fire arms as he prepared to hand them out to the actors playing border patrol officers. He continued to look preoccupied.
It was a little while later that I met the art director whose crew I was supposed to be on. His name isn't important. All you need to know about him is that he was a walking, talking rear-end. A self centered moron, an arrogant meathead. An igno-anus, if you will. You get the picture. Wherever he went disaster soon followed because it became quickly apparent that he didn't have a clue how to do his job. And what's worse he wasn't smart enough to the let the people working under him to do their jobs the right way. He was a major- league, control freak. He just had to show everyone that he was the boss and in complete control. Plus he never thought you were doing things fast enough. Let me give you a "for instance".
Since it was a boxing movie there was a scene with a makeshift boxing ring in a auto mechanics garage that our dear art director was in charge of setting up. Let me also mention that the film's director, Jimmy Nickerson, was a former stunt coordinator (possibly some of the Rocky films) so he was a stickler for details like setting up a boxing ring perfectly for his stunt men.
Well as luck would have it, Igno( That's what I'll call our beloved art director) ignored the specific directions given to him by the stunt coordinator, a young man whose name escapes me. If you've never seen a boxing ring put together it has to be done in a certain order, especially the ring ropes and they have to have tension applied to them evenly otherwise they look crooked and wont hold up a person's body as he leans his weight on them.
As we worked to tighten the ropes Igno grew very impatient with our progress and took over tightening the ropes, out of sequence and at varying tensions but it was o.k. because, I guess, he did it fast. The ring looked like a "cat's cradle" that had come undone. The scene would be shot in the next thirty minutes so the director came by to check it out. Igno proudly showed off his handywork to Mr. Nickerson and in about five seconds you could see the director's expression go from calm, to confused, then angry and furious. Then the he let out the biggest tirade I've ever seen and it was all directed at Igno, who stood there, head bowed, withering away in the merciless onslaught of obscenities firing from out of the maw of the crimson- faced director. You'd think that after that, Igno would have learned his lesson but such was not the case.
By that time, though, I was no longer on the set dressing crew. I had been working as one of the assistants to the prop master before the end of the my first day. He was short a crew member so he made Igno transfer me to props. I got the feeling they didn't get along.
On that day I was taken to the prop truck, given a quick run down of the contents, handed a walkie- talkie with an earpiece ( you hear some interesting things on that ) and told to stay by the truck so I could be ready to get whatever they needed. The better part of my day was spent finding and organizing the props needed for a particular scene. Sometimes I would alter(Greek) a prop in some way. The title for my job was "truck rat". It wasn't a very glamorous name but it was fitting. Picture a Penske truck filled front to back, top to bottom with all kinds of props large and small that were rented,made or purchased for the film. Sometimes I had to dig for small hand props buried under the larger ones. This was in early September, when the heat made the inside of the truck a sauna.
My first night on the set was unforgettable. We were out on a ranch shooting a burial scene. It was pitch black out there so you could see all the stars and there was a nice cool breeze. Candles had been lit on the two dozen or so graves with one open grave in the center. Igno had lit the candles too soon so he had his crew try to keep all the candles lit while we waited for the director to show up. If you lit a candle the breeze would blow it out soon after. This went on for about thirty minutes.
At one point they decided they needed more help lighting the candles so I was volunteered. I went all around that set, feeling like a fool, lighting and relighting the candles. The graves were not very far apart so you had to be careful not to step on the candles on the next grave over. We did this with Igno on our heels barking orders and trying to get us to hurry and unfortunately I got a dose of Igno's bad karma. I was lighting candles next to the open grave and I took a tiny fateful step back.
I've done many pratfalls as a clown, all under complete control but falling unexpectedly is the weirdest feeling and feels even odder in the dark. It's disorienting. You don't necessarily feel like you falling down but more like the space around you is in motion and not you. I landed on my back in the grave and lay there trying to figure out what had just happened. I lay there for a minute looking up at the night sky and thought about Edgar Allen Poe. I waited, thinking someone would peer in and help me out. It was quiet.Then, I slowly sat up looking at the earthen walls for a way to climb up.
I clawed my way to the top of the gave, looking around, hoping I'd see someone coming to my aid but I was alone. No one saw me take my plunge into infinity. If they did maybe they were too embarrassed for me and walked away to the fringes of the graveyard set so they wouldn't have to look at me. I don't know because I didn't want to ask. I climbed out, looked around and slowly hobbled my way to the craft services truck to eat away my memory of my early grave. Free food heals all wounds.
Tomorrow: Part 2. D-Day in Mico!
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